


Presents

by GreyLiliy



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 19:36:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1110722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyLiliy/pseuds/GreyLiliy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tarn tries to woo Pharma with presents. Most of them fail utterly, but that last one--well, that might be one Pharma can't ignore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Presents

**Author's Note:**

> Another request from Tumblr. Pretty happy with this one. XD

Tarn sent Pharma a T-Cog.

The doctor stared at the tiny package, the box sitting innocently on his desk and the top removed. A small tag had been attached to the precious part that read: “Saved you a trip.” 

Pharma rubbed the side of his face. While no return address or name had been attached to the box or its contents, it wasn’t hard to guess who was responsible for sending him a T-Cog.

“He’s teasing me,” Pharma said, slamming the lid back on the box. He threw the box into the back storeroom, and kicked it into the corner. “As if supplying him with those blasted things wasn’t enough.”

Since Tarn didn’t mention the present at their next appointment to replace his latest broken T-Cog, Pharma put the thought aside.

A week later, another package arrived on his desk. Ambulon placed it there, saying it was addressed to Pharma, but yet again had no return address. Pharma took it, and waved the Decepticon Deserter away.

This time Tarn sent him a spark chamber. With a beating still beating spark in it.

Pharma slammed the lid down on the box, and felt his own spark leap in his chest. He couldn’t have seen that. It wasn’t possible. Tarn didn’t have that sort of skill. Pharma snuck a peak under the lid, and slammed down again upon seeing that familiar blue glow. He leaned heavily on the box top with his full body weight, trying to smother it away. 

Pharma’s hand scrambled for the little tag that was attached to the side.

“I would have sent my own,” it read, “but then how would I adore you later?”

Pharma took the box carefully off his desk, and kept his arm clutched around it so that there was no chance of the lid slipping away. He took it to the back storage room, and locked the door with a swift click.

“Poor fool,” Pharma said. He took the lid off, and regarded the spark with a professional’s optic. He lifted the chamber out, and impressed against his better nature that it was still alive, swiftly cut the cord that spared the creature. The spark flickered out in a puff, and Pharma dumped the spark chamber back in the box.

It wasn’t as if he had a body to put the poor soul in.

Pharma threw the box in the corner with the T-Cog, and proceeded to forget about it. Tarn could play games all he wanted, and as long as he never brought it up in their little surgery sessions, it didn’t matter. Responding to his games in the mid-times wasn’t part of the deal, and Pharma would remind him of that if he ever did date bring it up.

A week after that, when Ambulon dumped the next box on his desk, Pharma read the card first:

“I guess you didn’t like the other two,” it read, the script almost as elegant as his voice. “But I think you’ll enjoy this one.”

Pharma sucked a breath in through his vents, and lifted the lid.

A flower.

“Well this seems harmless enough,” Pharma said. 

He reached down for Tarns’ latest gift and rolled the metallic art piece in his fingers. The flower was made of pressed metal, with delicate petals that had a soft polished look. They were thin enough that you could almost see through them, but it was most definitely made of Cybertronian metal. 

It sparkled, and Pharma couldn’t say he’d seen anything like it since the war started. He tilted it down and smirked at the tiny poem etched around the edges of the petals. It was lovely, and it made Pharma long for days long past. 

Pharma set it gently on his desk, and tilted the box down to see if he’d missed anything. “Someone put some effort into this.”

A card rested at the bottom.

Pharma plucked it out of the box, and opened it. It read, “I can’t wait to get my hands on you, and make your spark chamber open up like this flower bud.”

The moment ruined, Pharma tossed the flower back into the box, walked into the back room, and dropped it on top of the T-Cog and the Spark Chamber.

“Tarn,” Pharma growled, stomping back to his office. “He even ruins the good things.”

The next week, Pharma didn’t bother to open the box. He threw it in the storeroom, and ignored the card. It was none of his business, and Tarn could deal with it. Pharma refused to play this stupid game any longer.

The week after that, it wasn’t Ambulon who delivered the box.

“Vos,” Pharma said, sitting as neutrally as possible in his seat. The DJD member, who had slunk in through his back window, sat the box down on the desk. Pharma kept his frown on his face, even as every inch of him shivered. “Yes?”

Vos pointed at the latest present, and then left as easily as he came.

Pharma vented heavily in his seat, and reached over to open the box.

There was nothing in it.

Pharma tipped the box over, and looked through the empty space, but there was nothing. He set it on its side, and huffed, tapping his fingers along the edge. What was Tarn playing at? Pharma looked on the bottom of the lid, and his vents stopped. Etched in the top was a simple message: “You don’t get a new gift, until you open the last one.”

Pharma put the lid on the box carefully, and leaned back in his seat.  _How did Tarn?_

Best not to think too hard on it.

Pharma carried the empty box with its ominous message to the back room. Next to the flower, T-Cog, and empty spark chamber was the un-opened box from last week. Pharma set his newest package on the ground, and pulled over the forgotten one. He sat on the ground and held the box in his lap as he plucked off the lid.

“At least now I know how he knew I didn’t open this,” Pharma said, his voice shivering. He slammed the lid down and carried the box out under his shoulder.

He needed to see Tarn.

Pharma needed to see Tarn  _now._

So he did.

“Tarn!” Pharma shrieked, slamming open Tarn’s door to his private room. Tesarus and Helex as merely pointed in this direction when he landed on the Peaceful Tyranny’s deck. Good as sign as any that the “master” was waiting. Pharma shut the door behind him and hissed as he held up the box. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Something to get your attention,” Tarn chuckled. He leaned back in his chair and shrugged, as if he didn’t know what he had done. Tarn grinned under his mask—Pharma didn’t need to see it to know he was doing it. “You ignored all the other gifts.”

Pharma slammed the box on the counter and crawled into Tarn’s lap. He ripped the mask off Tarn’s face and kissed him hard. Tarn grabbed Pharma’s hips, and helped him up as the doctor attacked him with furious kisses. Pharma’s fingers dug around the back of his head and he rolled his hips into Tarn.

“You’re a monster,” Pharma hissed, biting Tarn’s lips. “I really hate you.”

“Your words and actions never seem to match,” Tarn chuckled. He pulled Pharma up higher by his thigh, and snuck his fingers up to massage Pharma’s back. “Now do they?”

“Shut up, and kiss me harder,” Pharma said, venting heavily. He dropped Tarn’s mask on the table next to that horrid box that started it all. “Less talking.”

“If I’d known that gift would have gotten this response, I would have sent it first,” Tarn laughed. He kissed Pharma’s neck and chuckled into it. “Serves me right for trying to play coy.”

“What did I just tell you?” Pharma asked, whining and pulling at Tarn’s plating. “Less talking, more touching. I need you right now.”

“Yes, yes,” Tarn chuckled, squeezing his hands harder around Pharma’s waist. “Whatever you want.”

Pharma hated him. He kissed Tarn harder, and ground his hips into the plating of his chest. Pharma despised that monstrous, romantic, annoyance and—oh. Pharma vented heavily and clung. That felt nice. This was nice. But he still hated him. Pharma kissed the scar under Tarn’s right optic, and licked it. Pharma really hated Tarn.

The little box, having been knocked over by a wayward wing, spilled its contents out on the table next to Tarn’s mask.

But, Pharma considered, as he dug his tongue into Pharma’s mouth and moaned into every touch.

He did know how to pick a present.


End file.
